Archive for January, 2006

I’ve Finally Had It With Celebrities

I’m done with you. All of you. You who stare at me wide eyed from the covers of People, In Touch Weekly, US Weekly, the National Enquirer…the list is endless. All of you with your fake marriages, weird religions and utter control of what makes news! Why are you newsworthy? Why is Jessica Simpson with her contract marriage now dissolved possibly interesting to anyone? I speak as someone who used to be fairly obsessed. Not with Paris Hilton or Nicole Richie or anyone whorey like that. Just with celebrity love in general. I believe in love. Not the kind that’s found (or faked) on a reality show like the Bachelor. I work in TV so I know what that is all about. It’s fake. We know those people are not finding love. But what about celebrities who we think really found it? What about when Andie McDowell was living on a farm forever in Montana with her true love Paul Qualley or something. Then suddenly she’s divorced and has found her new true love, unbelievably, she’s reunited with a long lost high school crush! They marry! What a lovely story. Then like last year – done. What the fuck happened?

I think I truly lost interest during the Jennifer Aniston Bratt Pitt debacle. First off, what was Aniston thinking marrying this dickwad anyway? He is a pothead who doesn’t believe marriage is going to last according to several interviews. He was quoted as saying something to the effect of “we’ll see where it takes us” WE’LL SEE WHERE IT TAKES US? IT’S CALLED A MARRIAGE ASSHOLE. But you see, what really puts it over the top is that Angelina Jolie (not an expert judge of personality – I mean, let’s just start with Billy Bob Thrornton. Why not just date Ike Turner?) scoops up Brad “I don’t believe in monogomy -committment whatever – Pitt and let’s him adopt her fucking kids.

And then there’s Chad Lowe and Hilary Swank. Did anyone see that coming? I mean, yes, she’s more famous than he is but can’t you get some counseling and work it out? Jesus. But you know what really has put it over the top for me? You won’t believe it but Kathy Griffin. Is she divorcing? Are they getting back together? At first I was obsessed. I watched her reality show and thought they were true soulmates. Or at least could put up with eachother’s neurotic personalities. he with his wanting bypass surgery when he was only about 40 pounds overweight and her with well, everything else. But then she up and files for divorce and then goes on Conan and says well…maybe not. but then her show is picked up. I seriously give up. I don’t care anymore. I will not buy any more magazines. I don’t care if Lindsey Lohan eats a homeless man for lunch I will not buy that issue of that magazine that has the real story. Plus, she doesn’t eat anyway. So, I wouldn’t trust it.

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on January 17, 2006 4:42 amUncategorized4 comments  

OCD and Baby Weight

I hate to be one of those people who talks about weight. It’s boring. Really boring. I don’t like listening to other people who aren’t fat talk about being fat. I mean, come on. We’re old. Who the fuck cares. But…as a former bulimic from age 16 to approximately 22, I feel that the weight obsession will always be a part of my life no matter how far away I get from having an actual eating disorder. Wow, this post is pretty funny so far…

I gained 55 pounds when I was preggo with my daughter. That weight came on because 2 years before I got pregnant I cut sugar out of my diet. I cannot eat one cookie. Let’s just leave it at that. Sugar had to go when I realized that my life was consumed with starting everyday saying I wouldn’t eat any sugar today and then breaking it by 10 a.m. Television writing jobs can be brutal for a woman with food issues. There are a lot of men around who don’t give two shits about candy and a lot of candy around for the women who really can’t stop eating it. So at one point I made a decision to not have it at all and it worked wonders. I lost a lot of weight and then got married and pregnant. Then the cravings came on so strong I felt like I got hit by an ice cream truck. I had had had to have something sweet. I dreamed about Laffy Taffy and Lemonheads at night. Not chasing me. Me eating them. By the pound. Finally, I succomed and never stopped. I ate junk through my whole pregnancy and can blame no one but myself for all the weight I gained.

So, I lived in maternity clothes for so long that I thought I’d never see anything without an elastic waist again. And it brought up a lot of issues. I felt invisible. I felt if I went out to the store, people didn’t notice me cause I was heavy. Ridiculous maybe but I’m very obsessive. Most people would go on a diet but that just kicks my obsession in harder and I know from past experience that diets don’t work for me. So I kicked the sugar habit again and started going to the gym. And now I’ve lost most of my weight. And I live in LA so I don’t say that lightly. I don’t look like I had a baby. And I should feel totally great right? But I don’t. I still obsess. What is with that? What is with women who are almost 40 and married to men who love them and love their bodies as they are obsessing about 2 or 3 pounds? It just seems vain. And is definitely not something I plan to pass along to my daughter. Something needs to change either with me or with society because it’s not just old hausfrau me. It’s all those teen actresses who think they should be 80 pounds. I know that not everyone feels this way. Hey, Candy Mandheim feels awesome about herself and we all know she’s fat. But she’s sassy! John Goodman is humongous and no one ever puts him in the National Enquirer wondering “what’s eating John Goodman?”

Okay, this has been more of a rant than anything else but if you understand what I mean I’d love you to comment. Not that anyone is reading this anyway. Dear diary….

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on January 16, 2006 10:51 pmUncategorized3 comments  

Things That Still Bug Me on Zoloft

So I’ve started taking 50 milligrams a day of Zoloft. Oh sure I resisted at first. “I feel fine” I told my husband. “But what about how much you’re crying and all the ‘I can’t take one more second of this?” “Oh that. Yeah. I sort of see your point. BUT…I have a lot going on! My parents aren’t speaking to me. Isn’t that a good reason to feel like I’m losing it?” “Yes. I understand. But your parents are getting to you waay too much. You need help.”

So now I’m on Zoloft. And, I do feel better. Not like a miracle cure but I do feel like I have skin now. Before I felt all raw and easily penetratable. Before I wanted to cut someone’s balls off who didn’t use their blinker. Now, not so much. BUT…I feel that people who don’t have strong opinions about things that get on their nerves are not that interesting to me. And I’d like to stay interesting. So as a test, I’m going to try to come up with as many things as I can that annoy me even on Zoloft. Here goes.

1. Movies that people tell you to go see because they have great Cinematography! “It’s a beautiful picture.” Who cares? So, along those lines let’s add…

2. Merchant-Ivory films.

3. K-Fed

4. The term “dropped” as in her new album “drops” on Tuesday.

5. People who wear visors.

6. People who let their dogs ride in the driver’s seat with them. Dogs are awesome but they belong in the back seat or at least the passenger seat. They should not be driving or near your instrument panel in any way.

7. Mr. Bean

8. The words “dipping sauce” used together.

9. Anyone who calls themself a foodie.

10. People who constantly suggest Yoga as a good relaxing technique. I hate Yoga. Especially the thought of Bikrim Yoga.

11. People who think they can tell the difference between bottled waters.

12. People who don’t use their blinkers (maybe it’s not working as well as I thought)

13. Scrapbooking.

14. When people leave their infants’ name on their outgoing voicemail message.

15. People who tell you what their baby is doing or dog is doing when you’re talking to them on the phone.

16. People who talk loudly on their cellphones in coffee shops. IT’S NOT YOUR HOUSE.

17. When people still use really old sayings like WASSSUPPP! Let it go already.

18. People who don’t get irony.

19. Anyone who uses the phrase “Aha moment” because they picked it up on Oprah. And that goes for people on her show that use that phrase.

20. When anyone uses one of those belt holders for their cellphone.

21. Any email that I’m supposed to send to 10 friends so my wish will come true.

22. The price of a cup of coffee at Starbucks.

23. The fact that they refuse to have flavored coffee at Starbucks.

24. Any CD that is sold at Pottery Barn. I don’t need Pottery Barn to choose my life’s soundtrack. Thanks though.

25. When people ask how old my baby is and then immediately say, “Oh is she walking?” or “Is she talking. How many words can she say?”

Wow…I feel better. I could’ve come up with twice as much stuff had I not been on this drug but I think I still get pissy.

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on January 12, 2006 5:07 amUncategorized5 comments  

Baby Momma is Bored

I don’t know why I keep expecting different from the completely suburban area where I live. I used to live in Santa Monica. By the beach. In an apartment that was rent controlled. The reason I lived in that apartment was because I was living with a boy who was not at all willing to forge a serious commitment with me but who did want to live with me (only when I told him I wouldn’t live with him). We got on a waiting list for this apartment and finally got in just a month shy of when he left me to go live in Rome and sniff out some Rome pussy (not that I had any idea of the sniffing part). He told me, of course, that we were still boyfriend and girlfriend and that we’d be together when he came back in six months and to please watch and love and take care of his black Nisson convertible. Which I did. For about a month when it ht me like a display in Cost Co. falling on my head that he was not coming back and didn’t love me at least the way I loved him and that I was a fool.

So, I got a roomie. The first one was sort of interesting. Her name was Jessica and she started immediately fucking a director who lived in the penthouse apartment. He moved to New York and started having internet and real sex with men. She one day found a bunch of his emails with real names and addresses of his “men friends” and asked me if I thought it was real. The only reason I was convinced it was the real deal is because this director was telling men that he had a six inch penis. Now, no guy who’s just in it for the fantasy is telling other guys that he has a 6 inch penis. 8 inches minimum! I tried to point that out to her but she didn’t want to believe. So we called one of the number of the men. He admitted to having sex with her boyfriend. Done deal right? Well, about a year ago I ran into them and they live together and have a baby. Good job, Jessie. I’m positive he doesn’t fuck guys anymore.

Next roomie was a model from New York. She was sort of normal except that she was defintitely 42 and was trying to pretend that she was like 27 or something. She wouldn’t ever actually tell me her age but that was weird. We had a workable relationship until she moved in with her masseuse/spiritual guide (I kid you not) and I lived alone til I found the love of my life at the ripe old age of 33. We dated for two years until I moved in with him and when we were finally able to buy a house another two years later it was in the VALLEY. With the jappy moms and non creative types. Or so I’ve experienced so far. I’m seriously thinking about taking out an ad on Craig’s list to meet a mom that I’m “compatible” with. My husband thinks that like begging for all kinds of crazy but I’m at the end of my rope. I must meet some normal or semi normal women. someone with a kind of fucked up childhood who likes to do something creative (knitting doesn’t count) and has a sense of humor. I’m accepting applications. It doesn’t pay well but I will feed you humus and make you laugh.


Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on January 9, 2006 4:48 amUncategorized5 comments  

I’ve had some egg nog

The time to create your new entry to your blog is not when you have just polished off three egg nogs. Well, two and a half but I’ll keep you posted.

Now, I could start off by telling you some funny stories about life in LA, like how I ran into Angelyn (the crazy blond 147-year-old who drives the pink corvette and used to have billboards all over town) at Whole Foods. And yes, I shop there sometimes even though I can’t afford $160 dollars for artichoke chicken garlic sausage but still…I was there, okay?

Or I could tell you a funny thing about this run in I had with a woman at the gym awhile ago because she was making really loud more than vaguely sexual noises everytime she so much as lifted a five pound weight with her weirdly Zorroesque trainer. A few different women and I were exchanging glances to show that we were all as one in the crazy factor we were audibly witnessing. If I were to tell the story I’d have to tell you that I asked her trainer, as he waltzed by me and said in a very salacious manner “how are you dooooing?” if he could please get his client to tone down the Meg Ryan 80’s styled fake orgasms so I could get in one more set of sit-ups in fucking peace. And then I’d have to tell you that the woman came and CONFRONTED me saying that she could make as much noise as she wanted since she paid the trainer 80 bucks an hour. To which I replied “there’s a sign on the wall that says NO LOUD OR STRANGE NOISES (and I swear it does. Anyone who lives in Los Angeles and who would admit to going to a Bally’s gym can attest that they do indeed have this sign and it is quite necessary).

So this woman says to me in some kind of accent that I honestly in a non racist way can’t figure out if it’s Italian, Spanish or Persian starts going off on me like she wants to fight. I think in my mind, “wow, if I did get in a fist fight in Bally’s when I’m almost 40 that would make a great story” but I also thought, I am very opinionated and often times when I’ve forgotten to take a clonopin, can’t keep my thoughts completely to myself and this behavior has once again gotten me into trouble. So I tried to completely ignore her. But she persisted, people. She followed me around explaining her right to make unpleasant grunting noises like a goat in heat. Finally, like a second grader I said “maybe we should take this to managment” which you know at any gym is like a fifteen-year-old with a ponytail and a forty year old guy who is preaching ABC (always be closing) to his phone crew and only interested in closing the deal on new members. Customer service has no place in the gym business. None-the-less I stormed down the stairs into the glass enclosed office of “management” heart pounding like a hamster and not from the reps on the shoulder press. I actually told on her. You betcha. I complained that she was irritating the whole gym with crazy noises and that it was interrupting my workout. Then I promptly moved to a house about 20 miles away where I deal with a different branch of Bally’s gym. And now I live in the suburbs of Encino where I have a baby and whole different set of problems.

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on January 6, 2006 5:02 amUncategorized4 comments  


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